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COPYRIGHT DEPOSE 



A WHISPER OF DESTINY 



A WHISPER OF DESTINY 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

VIRGINIA BIOREN HARRISON 




NEW YORK 
E, P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 

81 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 






Copyright, 1909 
By Virginia Bioren Harrison 






THIS LITTLE BOOK OF VERSE 

IS AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED 

TO MY BROTHER 

J. S. B 



For the permission to reprint many of these 
verses, acknowledgment is gratefully made 
to The Century Magazine, The Independent, 
Everybody's Magazine, Messrs. Harper and 
Bros., Munsey's Magazine, The Sunday 
School Times, Good Housekeeping, The 
American Magazine and The New Age. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A WHISPER OF DESTINY 3 

THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS UPON THE HILL 6 

THE SINGERS* FLOWERS 9 

THE DYING YEAR 11 

HEIMWEH 14) 

THE COUNTRY OF THE FEW STARS . . .16 

OFF SWAMPSCOTT 18 

O WIND FROM THE GOLDEN GATE . . .21 

MUSIC OF THE DAWN 23 

NIGHT IN THE HILLS 25 

THE GRAY NUN 26 

MY CLOUD REALM 28 

THE CORONATION OF QUEEN INEZ . . .31 

AN AUTUMN THOUGHT 35 

THE SUMMER NIGHT ORCHESTRA ... 36 

BEATITUDES OF EARTH AND SEA AND SKY . 39 

HOLLYHOCKS 41 

CUM PRIMA LUCE 43 

SOLACE OF REMEMBRANCE 48 

FAITH 49 

A CHILD MARRIAGE IN THE 1 7TH CENTURY . 50 
THAT JUNE MAY BIDE 55 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

BENEATH MY ROOFTREE 56 

A SILENT SONG 59 

THE BALLAD OF FRA PAOLO 60 

BANISHED LOVE 64 

THE FOREST IN WINTER 66 

WANDERLUST 69 

A JEST OF FATE 71 

A SKATING RONDEAU 73 

LIKE A PRESSED FLOWER 75 

THE SILENT MAN 76 

A LOW MOUND IN THE WILDERNESS ... 78 

TO MARCH 82 

A BLESSED SPOT 83 

LULLABY 85 

A VAIN WISH 86 

POT-POURRI 87 

GOLDEN SILENCE 88 

MAY 89 

AFTERWARD 91 

ROSEMARY 92 

IMPROVEMENTS ON THE HOMESTEAD . . 93 

AMBITION 06 

A CHARM 97 

TWIN GUESTS 99 

AN UNWRITTEN BOOK 101 

IN THE FAR COUNTRY 102 

THE LAND OF THE AFTERNOON . . . .103 



CONTENTS 
II 

PAGE 

THE MOTHER-HEART 107 

THE LILY OF ISRAEL 110 

BLOWN BY THE BREATH OF GOD . . . .111 

WITHIN THE STONE 113 

UNANSWERED PRAYER 115 

THE FLOWER OF DUTY . . . . . .118 

ONLY BELIEVE 119 

A BLOSSOM FOR GOOD FRIDAY 121 

A TWILIGHT VISION 122 

TWO CALLS 125 

WHEN DAYLIGHT DAWNS 127 

HE CARETH FOR ALL 129 

HANS AND THE GOLDEN APPLE . . . .131 

ONE GIFT I ASK 135 

PRISONERS OF HOPE 137 

BISHOP FENELON'S PRAYER 139 

THE FLOWER OF THE RESURRECTION . . 141 
UNTIL EVENING 143 



A WHISPER OF DESTINY 



A WHISPER OF DESTINY 

Heaven's dome was filled with silvery song, 

That night long centuries ago, 
When Eastern Kings, who had journeyed long, 
Were bending low — ■ 
Were bending low. 

(By the Lake of Gennesaret far away 
A slender sapling swayed in play.) 

Not theirs alone the homage paid 

By Kings that night of Jesus' birth — 
Their worship but foreshadowed that 
Of all the earth — 
Of all the earth. 

(But never a nest nor song of bird 
In the sapling's boughs was built or 
heard.) 

3 



A WHISPER OF DESTINY 

None but the dark-eyed mother saw 

The thorn crown round her baby's head, 
And the mystic light, that glorified 
The lowly shed — 
The lowly shed. 

(Soon mist spread o'er the wavering sea 
And tremors stirred the cypress tree.) 



None saw but she the phantom sword 

That should her own soul pierce. — And far 
She heard the name of " Mary " float 
To outmost star — 
To outmost star. 

(Was a whisper of destiny thither blown, 
Or 'mid the leaves did the wind make 
moan?) 



A WHISPER OF DESTINY 

Ah! strange misgivings mingled with 

Wild joy within the Virgin's breast, 
While angel's softest voices lulled 
The Babe to rest — 
The Babe to rest. 

(And the shuddering tree to heaven made 

call 
For the lightning's withering stroke to 
fall.) 

But one prophetic seraph veiled 

His face, while hymns triumphant rang 
And in a sobbing minor strain 
Of Calvary sang — 
Of Calvary sang. 

(Then cursing fate, in black despair 
The cypress beat on the breezeless air — 
The cypress that Christ's cross should 

be — 
And silence lay on Gennesaret's sea.) 
5 



THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS UPON 
THE HILL 

O, a new star, a new star 
Blazed like a lamp of gold. 

For closely pressed to Mary's breast 

The Savior Jesus lay at rest, 
As prophets had foretold. 

(But little Judas, as he slept, 

Stirred in his mother's arms and wept.) 



THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS 

O, the night wind, the night wind 
A new song found to sing, 
Caught from the gleaming angel choir, 
With harps of light and tongues of fire, 
To praise the new-born King. 

(But little Judas, as he slept, 

Stirred in his mother's arms and wept.) 



O, the worship, the worship 
And myrrh and incense sweet, 
Which shepherd kings from far away- 
Had brought with golden gifts to lay 
At the Savior Jesus' feet. 

(But little Judas, as he slept, 

Stirred in his mother's arms and wept.) 



THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS 

O, the shadow, the shadow 

Of the cross upon the hill. 
But yet the babe, who was to bear 
The whole world's weight of sin and care, 

On Mary's heart lay still. 

(But Judas' mother with a cry, 

Kissed him and wept, she knew not why.) 



8 



THE SINGERS' FLOWERS 

" Write ! write ! " said he who bears aloft the 
flaming pen. 

And one in glowing words depicted earth and 
sky 

And sea, and sang so wildly sweet a tale of love, 

That men's hearts thrilled and beat in unison 
with the song. 

Then round the singer bloomed a wealth of pas- 
sion flowers, 

And many a red, red rose. 

But God looked on these flowers, 

And lo! like Dead Sea fruit, they naught but 
ashes were 

9 



THE SINGERS' FLOWERS 

Again the word went forth. Another singer 
seized 

The inspired pen, and wrote a single verse, — 
the prayer 

We children said each by his mother's knee, at 
night 

Before we laid us down to sleep, and still is said 

By countless baby lips. And at God's feet, be- 
fore 

The great white throne, he laid his little song. 
Then soft, 

Like fluttering snowflakes, round him fell the 
children's prayers; 

And straightway bloomed a mass of blue forget- 
me-nots, 

That, blown by heaven's winds, breathe forth 
the singer's name 

Before God's face forever and forevermore. 



10 



THE DYING YEAR 

Take off this crimson robe, 

With yellow broidery and brown; 

Unclasp the jeweled belt; 
And from my head remove the crown 
Of gold. Think you they grace 
The closing eye, the pale, still face ? 

Yet I would fain be fair 
When they who knew me in the pride 

Of loving beauty, come 
A silent throng and stand beside 
My couch, with bated breath, 
To see the face kissed white by Death. 



II 



THE DYING YEAR 

So bring some snowy robe, 
With border of soft down, to fold 

About my fluttering heart 
And limbs that seem so strangely cold. 
And on my quiet breast 
The white chrysanthemum shall rest. 

For rose and passion-flower 
Are mine no more. Think you they still 

Would glow and perfume yield 
If laid upon a heart grown chill? 
Ah ! no ; from this sad hour 
I wear no rose, no passion-flower. 



12 



THE DYING YEAR 

And let the winter bring 
His wealth of crystal gems, and now 

With glittering coronet 
Of icy diamonds deck my brow. 
And men shall gaze and say: 
How sweet a year to pass away I 



13 



HEIMWEH 

When o'er the sunset's crimson bar 
The golden day has sailed away, 

My homesick fancies wander far 

From hot roadway and pavement gray, 

Where only weary creatures are. 

I seem to walk the road once more 
Among the hills, by fields and rills; 

And, from the millpond's lonely shore, 
The whip-poor-will's sad calling thrills 

As in the twilight days of yore. 



14 



HEIMWEH 

The old elm guards the fallen gate. 

And though I know no flowers now grow 
Within the garden desolate, 

Yet, in the glow of Dreamland, Lo ! — 
It blooms in beauty's lost estate. 

The silent house is Memory's home. 

And O, some way, some happier day, 
May I to that dear hillside come, 

From hot roadway and pavement gray 
To sleep — nor wake again to roam. 



15 



THE COUNTRY OF THE FEW STARS 

The path that leads to Twilight Land 
Is through an opal sky all rose and gold, 
Where trailing banners of the vanquished day 
From crimson change — and fade to gray away. 

When stir the pines by night winds fanned, 
When little birds their weary pinions fold, 
And drowsy twitterings rise from many a nest, 
The last red rays, far down the purpling West, 

Illume the gate of Twilight Land. 



16 



THE FEW STARS 

The voice of Silence fills that land; 
The mystic hour brings loved and lost ones 

home; 
Long silent lips breathe tender words once more 
And vanished joys possess us as of yore. 

The silver crescent in eve's hand, 
The few stars low in heaven's dusky dome 
Shine softly on this hour of Memory's dreams, 
Till, like some dim mirage, which fading seems 

Most lovely - • lost is Twilight Land. 



17 



OFF SWAMPSCOTT 

The ocean's varying blue and green 
Have changed to gray with night; 
And from the western sky has paled 
The saffron-colored light. 

There lingers in the darkening east 
A flush, — so faint it seems 
As if the sun-forsaken sky 
Were blushing in her dreams. 

And now across the plain of heaven 
The moon and slow stars creep, 
As o'er the darkening fields at eve 
Some shepherd leads his sheep. 



18 



OFF SWAMPSCOTT 

And out upon the trembling depths 
Lies wavering to and fro 
The moonlight path, where sailors say 
Strange phantoms come and go. 

A company unseen, unheard, 
A weird and shadowy throng, 
Who rise with the rising moon to walk 
This pathway all night long. 

The semblances of swarthy men; 
Pale shades of vikings fair; 
And women with the seaweed dank 
Entangled in their hair. 



19 



OFF SWAMPSCOTT 

O summer moon, hide, hide thy face! 
O bright path on the deep 
In darkness fade away, and let 
The shipwrecked sailors sleep! 



20 



O WIND FROM THE GOLDEN GATE! 

Now dies the salt wind — breath of Eastward 

seas — 
And in the quivering leaves of whispering trees 
Soft stirs the evening breeze. 

From charmed lands, O wind from out the West ! 
From slumbrous isles by sleeping waves caressed, 

Thou bearest on thy breast 
The languorous perfume of a thousand flowers, 
The garnered sunshine of unnumbered hours, 

The spice of Orient bowers. 



21 



O WIND 

Thy pinions touch peaks ermined by the snow 
And search deep canons where wild waters flow, 

And mighty cedars grow. 
Thou art the voice of silent places lone, 
That call me day and night — pools shadow 
strown, 

And forest haunts unknown. 

Now on thy wide-spread wings bring tranquil 

rest 
And sway the jeweled fringe of dreams, O blest 
Sweet wind from out the West! 



22 



MUSIC OF THE DAWN 

(At sea — Oct. 23rd, 1907) 

In far forests' leafy twilight, now is stealing 
gray dawn's shy light, 
And the misty air is tremulous with songs of 
many a bird; 
While from mountain steeps descending, every 
streamlet's voice is blending 
With the anthems of great pine trees, by the 
breath of daylight stirred. 



23 



MUSIC OF THE DAWN 

But I turn from Fancy's dreaming of the green 
earth, to the gleaming 
Of the fluttering wings of morning rushing 
o'er the jewelled deep. 
And the ocean's rhythmic pounding, with each 
lucent wave resounding, 
Seems the music made when God's own hands, 
His mighty harp strings sweep. 



24 



NIGHT IN THE HILLS 

Like sentinels upon the hillsides seem 

The pines, through which the wandering west 
wind sighs; 
Above its trembling image in each stream 

The slow moon moves across the star-flecked 
skies — 
And spellbound by the eyes of Night I dream, 
For in their depths the charm of silence lies. 



25 



THE GRAY NUN 

There comes, each dying day, to bless, 

A little while before the night, 
A gentle nun in convent dress 

Of clinging robes, all gray and white. 

She lays her cool hand on my face 

And smoothes the lines of care away — 

Her tender touch, with magic grace, 
Dispels the worries of the day. 

She folds the mystic curtain by, 

Which hides from view the shadowy throng, 
And gives me those for whom I sigh, 

The vanished friends for whom I long. 



26 



THE GRAY NUN 

Sometimes she brings a perfumed spray 
Of flowers that bloomed long years ago, 

The breath of Summers laid away 

'Neath many a Winter's drifted snow. 

No other guest gives such delight, 
Nor can of peace bestow the same, 

As she, who comes 'twixt day and night, 
And Twilight is the gray nun's name. 



27 



MY CLOUD REALM 

The Summer night winds stir the vine 

About my window frame, 
Where many a scarlet trumpet flower 

Gleams like a tongue of flame; 
The scent of mignonette floats from 

The garden at my feet, 
Like thoughts of love, long dead and yet 

In memory faintly sweet. 

O'er head I see a mystic world, 
Which seems just mine alone, 

Upon its purple seas there sail 
No dreamships but my own — 

28 



MY CLOUD REALM 

And drifting like the floating reefs 

On far away lagoons, 
The lazy clouds are islands fair, 

Where shine no blazing noons. 

One dark and gloomy cloudlet is 

The Isle of Grief, and waves 
That moan o'er shipwrecked happiness 

Break on its shore of graves. 
But when I sail the moonlight Bay 

Of Hope, 'mid stars, then stilled 
Is every thought that springs from out 

Life's promise unfulfilled. 

And on a lotus leaf I drift, 

By drowsy winds caressed, 
Till, toil forgot, in languor steeped, 

I reach my Isle of Rest. 



29 



MY CLOUD REALM 

Then when the rosy barge of dawn 
Invades my sapphire sea, 

'Tis mine no more till night restores 
My Realm of Clouds to me. 



30 



THE CORONATION OF QUEEN INEZ 

The spirit of Inez de Castro gazed 
From heaven's jewelled gate of gold and saw, 
Far down in Portugal's great palace — that 
Which once was she, but now a shell, exhumed. 
Upon a throne beside the King's, it sat 
Attired in robes of silver flecked with pearls. 
The hands that Pedro (ere he yet was King) 
Had found so soft, but now were shrivelled skin 
O'er bones, a sceptre held in lifeless grasp. 
Upon the coils and braids of blue black hair 
About the shrunken face, a crown of gold 
And gems — a royal diadem — was set. 
And all the proudest nobles of the realm 
31 



CORONATION OF QUEEN INEZ 

Before this bent the knee and kissed the hem 

Upon the coronation robe of poor 

Dead Inez, now crowned Queen of Portugal. 



Then through the jewelled gate of heaven the 

soul 
Of Inez flashed. Down — down, through seas 

of light 
It sped and hovered near the royal throne. 
She kissed King Pedro's brow — and, Ah ! he 

dreamed 
Of her dear kisses in those four bright years, 
When he and she in secret marriage dwelt. 
She sighed — and he in pity wept for her 
Who murdered was, by his own sire's command. 



32 



CORONATION OF QUEEN INEZ 

She put her arms about his neck and laid 

Her face against his cheek — and Pedro thought 

Some cloud of incense touched him — but his 

heart 
Beat faster and with mighty yearning longed 
For those few vanished years, and in his arms 
To hold his lost love to his breast once more. 



Then from the throne, the dead queen's form 

was raised 
And to a splendid tomb was borne, while close 
Beside King Pedro, floating moved the soul 
Of her he loved beyond the Gates of Death. 
And to his heart there crept a wondrous peace, 
As once again her lips touched light his own. 



33 



CORONATION OF QUEEN INEZ 

Then on slow wings she sought the jewelled 

gate? 
Of Paradise for all Eternity. 



34 



AN AUTUMN THOUGHT 

When through the leafless trees the cold wind 
sighs 
And garnered is the wealth of golden grain, 
On shivering wings the famished song bird 
flies 
Some summer land to gain. 

And so, on wings of faith, the soul shall rise 
Beyond the chilling world, its grief and pain, 

And 'neath the glory of celestial skies 
Its summer land attain. 



35 



THE SUMMER NIGHT ORCHESTRA 

When fades the gold from sunset sky, 
When twilight's silvery sheen grows dim, 
And twinkling lights gleam, one by one, 
In marvelous order ranged in heaven, 
There mingles with the mystery 
Of night, a wondrous harmony. 

Musicians, an unnumbered band, 
Fill earth and air with ceaseless hum 
Of strings and horns impalpable. 
Against the dark sky, darker woods 
Hold in their depths of oak and fir 
The tree toad with bass viol strong — 

36 



SUMMER NIGHT ORCHESTRA 

And meadows shelter myriads 

Of katy-dids, whose notes ring forth 

With crickets' song antiphonal. 

A blur of insect music fills 

The orchestra's interstices 

And mingles with the dewy scents, 

That make the soft, damp air so sweet. 

Far off upon the distant hills 
A tiny huntsman's horn is wound 
And from the young moon's crescent ship 
We seem to hear clear elfin flutes. 



37 



SUMMER NIGHT ORCHESTRA 

For one with ear attuned, the low 

Sweet music of the winds amid 

The pines, commingling with the dim 

Night's voices multitudinous, 

Is Nature singing us to sleep, 

As mothers coo soft lullabies 

To drowsy babes, who sink to rest. 



38 



BEATITUDES OF SEA AND EARTH AND 
SKY 

Blessed is the sound when storms thro* lofty- 
pine trees roar; 

Blessed is the boom of waves upon some lone 
seashore ; 

Blessed in the woods, the gay duet of brook and 
leaves ; 

Blessed is the harvest moon on rows of tentlike 
sheaves ; 

Blessed is the sun by day, by night each God- 
set star; 

Blessed are the silent haunts where shaded 
waters are; 



39 



BEATITUDES 

Blessed is the dank earth-smell in forests' dusky 
glades ; 

Blessed is the crimson sky that slow to purple 
fades ; 

Blessed is the happiness, that Nature's hand- 
touch brings, 

And eye and ear and heart that see and hear 
and love these things. 



40 



HOLLYHOCKS 

The charm of bygone times and things, 

To hollyhocks old-fashioned, clings. 

On stately stalks their bells unfold 

In many a garden quaint and old, 

Round which are low stone walls, where twines 

A verdant mass of wandering vines. 

There dials mark the sunny hours, 

Mid beds of sweet familiar flowers 

And boxedged paths, long since first trod 

By feet that rest now 'neath the sod. 

But still the hollyhocks grow high, 
With bells aflaunt as winds blow by — 
And still at dark, those stately men 
And dames of old walk there again — 
41 



HOLLYHOCKS 

And as the boxedged paths once more 
They tread, 'mid flowers they loved of yore, 
Their misty draperies in the breeze 
Seem only cobwebs 'twixt the trees — 
And their silken garments' soft frou-frou, 
Like wind, that sighs the pine trees thro'. 

But shadowy lips kiss shadowy hands, 
Where the gray sun dial silent stands — 
And lovers, who long since felt love's thrill, 
In the garden old are lovers still. 



42 



CUM PRIMA LUCE 

Chill winds that beat on the ivied wall 
Sweep through the castle's lofty hall — 
And far beneath, in dark abyss, 
The gale tossed seawaves roar and hiss. 

Tall, flickering candJes scarce illume 
The confines of a turret room, 
Where, through the casement from afar 
There shines no glint of moon nor star 
Upon a mother, who half wild 
With grief, kneels by her dying child. 
Upon the other side, there stands 
A radiant one, with outstretched hands, 
Whose aureoled wealth of golden hair 
Shines o'er a face divinely fair. 
43 



CUM PRIMA LUCE 

The mother pleads: " Forsake us not 
My little maid! Hast thou forgot 
The happy hours, when 'neath the shade 
Of yonder greenwood trees we played; 
Or how, when held in thy sire's arms, 
The knights acclaimed thy childish charms 
And swore on many a tourney's ground 
To see thee Queen of Beauty crowned ? " 

Now speaks the angel low and sweet: 

" In yonder greenwood, at thy feet 

A serpent trailed across the grass, 

Affrighting thee and then, Alas ! 

Thou didst fall down — and filled with fears, 

Thy mother sought in pain and tears. 



44 



CUM PRIMA LUCE 

And so, in time to come, no joy 

Would e'er be thine without alloy. 

With jealousy and aching heart 

Th 'U wouldst in feast and joust take part, 

For knights, who crowned thee Queen one day^ 

The next would laugh and ride away. 

Come thou with me, where streams and trees 

And birds sing lovely symphonies 

And many a little angel waits 

To play with thee at heaven's gates." 

The mother clasps the hand so small 
And murmurs : " Do not heed the call — 
The night outside is dark and cold; 
No mother there thy hand to hold; 
Against the crags the wild waves foam — 
My little maid bide in thy home." 



45 



CUM PRIMA LUCE 

The face upon the cot grows gray; 

The pale lips sigh: " 'Tis break of day. 

The casement open wide, that so 

My soul with the angel forth may go. 

" I love thee so, I'd spare thee pain, 
But go I must — to plead is vain, 
So sweet is she who calls me. Oh ! 
I pray thee Mother, let me go." 

The spirit stoops and to her breast 
Enfolds the child in dreamless rest. 
And to the mother says : " Trust me ! 
Though dark the night and wild the sea, 
Safe in my arms, nor storm nor pain 
Shall touch thy little maid again — 
Think not of me with bated breath, 
God calls me Life whom men call Death. 



4 6 



CUM PRIMA LUCE 

Now to the mother's anguished heart 
The angel's words great peace impart — 
She opes the casement toward the sun 
And weeps: " Farewell my little one! " 

The storm is spent. The waves no more 
Beat 'gainst the tower with hiss and roar. 
With morning's opal tints the world 
Of land and sea spreads forth impearled., 
While softly on the castle wall 
The ivy branches rise and fall 
And in the sky, past heaven's bar, 
One silvery cloudlet flies afar. 



47 



THE SOLACE OF REMEMBRANCE 

Think not the brown leaves, whirled by breath 
of fall, 
Are but evangels of the Winter drear: 
'Mid Autumn's minor music they recall, 

In happier strains, that Summer has been 
here. 
And so, when Memory's drifting leaves of 
thought 
Float 'round the darkening portals of the 
heart, 
Gray skies with gold and crimson shall be 
fraught 
In dreams of joys that came but to depart. 



4 8 



FAITH 

Faith is the keynote of life's battle hymn; 
The noon's straight sunbeam, lighting chasms 

dim; 
The sinking in a father's arms to sleep 
Assured that he the long night watch will keep. 



49 



A CHILD MARRIAGE OF THE SEVEN- 
TEENTH CENTURY 

Lines in commemoration of the wedding of 
the grandson, namesake and heir of Sir George 
Carteret to the daughter of the Earl of Bath 
— read before the New Jersey Society of Col- 
onial Dames at its second commemorative meet- 
ing at Trenton. 

Across the broad Atlantic's breast 

And broader sea of Time, 
There gleams a tiny wedding ring, 

And joybells faintly chime. 
We lift the veil of vanished years, 

And lo! before us stand 
A boy of eight and maid of six, 

With hand close clasped in hand. 
50 



A CHILD MARRIAGE 

His snow white velvet suit is slashed 

With pale pink here and there, 
While from the cap to match, a plume 

Droops on his flaxen hair. 
White silken hose, a jeweled sword, 

With knot of rosy hue; 
And on each knee a huge rosette, 

Which is of pale pink, too. 

Which is it, think you, fills to-day 
His boyish heart with pride, 

And bids him toss his gallant head — 
The swordlet or the bride? 



51 



A CHILD MARRIAGE 

O'er English fields with wild flowers flecked, 
The wind blows soft and sweet, 

To lay its gift of perfume at 
The little maiden's feet. 

It stirs the locks, that tendril like 

Wave round her bonny face, 
And flutters 'mid the chestnut curls 

Beneath her veil of lace. 
Upon the ivory satin gown 

Forget-me-nots are sewn, 
Of turquoise made, like blossoms blue 

Upon a snow bank strewn. 



52 



A CHILD MARRIAGE 

She carries high her dainty head, 

This daughter of an Earl, 
Tiaraed with forget-me-nots 

Encircling one great pearl. 
The organ peals, the bridegroom doffs 

His cap, then hand in hand 
They tread the aisle with stately mien, 

And at the altar stand. 



On noiseless wings the crowding years 
Once more press in between 

This present place, this present time 
And that strange wedding scene. 



53 



A CHILD MARRIAGE 

The church grows dim. The wavering forms 

'Mid shadows seem to sway. 
No faintest sound of music comes, 

The vision fades away. 

Farewell, Sir George! Farewell, wee bride! 

We know naught of thy lot. 
But through the years thy turquoise flow 

Bid us forget thee not. 



54 



THAT JUNE MAY BIDE 

No matter though December skies 

Hang low o'erhead; 
No matter though the red rose dies 

And birds have fled; 
If thou to Hope wilt open wide 

Thy bosom door 
Then June will come to thee and bide 

Forevermore. 



55 



BENEATH MY ROOF-TREE 

One dewy morn, when waking birds 
Their first low notes were trilling, 

And perfume from each hawthorn hedge 
The wandering wind was filling, 

I saw serene Contentment pass, 

With step that scarcely swayed the grass. 

So wondrous sweet and fair beyond 
All other friends I thought her, 

That every day through woodland way 
And flowery field I sought her, 

And called and called again her name, — 

But never answering whisper came. 



56 



BENEATH MY ROOF-TREE 

Then, vexed that she would not reply, 

I cried in accents fretful: 
" Contentment, where thou listest, go ; 

Nor will I be regretful. 
I fain would have thee with me dwell; 
But, since thou wilt not, fare thee well." 

I sought my cot, where needlecraft, 
The spinning wheels' swift whirring, 

And housewife cares, gave wings to time, 
And kept the life-tide stirring; 

Forgot were wimpling burn and fell, 

The sunlit mead and dusky dell. 



57 



BENEATH MY ROOF-TREE 

A light footfall; a gentle knock; 

A snowy kirtle fluttering 
Within my door; a longed-for voice 

My name in soft tones uttering; 
And lo ! beneath my own roof-tree 
The long-sought one stood seeking me." 



58 



A SILENT SONG 

God gave unto a chosen one 

The gift of poesy and song, 
But ah ! he sang of vanished hope, 

Life's bitterness, its pain and wrong, 
Till hearts lost courage, eyes with tears 
Grew dim, and souls were bowed with fears. 

Another, poor and well acquaint 

With grief, yet met men with a smile 

Which said, " How good God is, how sweet 
His gift of life ! " and all the while 

A new j oy touched the passing throng — 

An echo from a silent song. 



59 



THE BALLAD OF FRA PAOLO 

Day after day, within the church at Ascoli, a 

young monk paints 
With master hand on dome and walls, bright 

seraphim and blessed saints. 

(But bach on the hills, a garden lies — 
A garden sweet as Paradise.) 

The angels Fra Paolo paints, at Ascoli Piceno, 

bear 
The face of one with glorious eyes and waving 

lengths of red bronze hair. 

(And o'er a marble bench there grows 
In that garden cool a crimson rose.) 

60 



BALLAD OF FRA PAOLO 

There were in days not long gone by, twin 

brothers, Esperi by name, 
Who, one by sculpture, one with brush had 

gained both fortune great and fame. 

(There haunted paths, mosaic laid, 
Lead 'round a vase crowned balustrade.) 



Betrothed unto the painter was a girl of Rome, 

bronzetressed and tall — 
But women's hearts are fickle oft — and men's 

hearts stray beyond recall. 

(While passion flowers srvay in the 

breeze, 
That stirs the sombre ilex trees.) 



6l 



BALLAD OF FRA PAOLO 

The sculptor won the woman's heart, but, with 

remorse filled, to atone 
He threw away God's gift of life — as 'twere 

but thistledown, windblown. 

(And the cypress, blackest shadows 

throws 
O'er haunted path and crimson rose.) 



"So soon are we forgot when we are gone ! " 

The heart that lightly turned 
From her betrothed, turned back again to where 

Love's altar fires still burned. 

('Neath the orange trees the blossoms lie, 
By sobbing winds blown far and nigh.) 



62 



BALLAD OF FRA PAOLO 

But happiness could not be grasped across the 

low and verdant mound, 
By him, whose loved twin brother lay there in 

unconsecrated ground. 

(Ah! where the fountains overflow, 
Forget-me-nots are whispering low.) 

So, in the church at Ascoli, a young monk paints 

day after day — 
But Memory, vows forgetting, strays from 

prayer and cloister far away. 

(And blown this way, then that, there 

grows 
O'er the marble bench a drooping rose.) 



63 



BANISHED LOVE 

shepherds ! have ye wandering seen 
A winged boy with blinded eyes? 

1 drove him from me yestere'en 
Despite his tears and pleading sighs. 

He bears a pretty bow and keen 
Tipped arrows in his quiver lie. 

O shepherds! tell me, have ye seen 

This banished Love come wandering by? 

Why shines the sun, regret to mock; 

Why flaunt the flowers in hues so gay; 
Why skip with joy the snowy flock 

When poor lost Love is far away? 

6 4 



BANISHED LOVE 

Unfeeling shepherds, wherefor smile 
And point toward my breaking heart? 

What, close behind me all this while! 
— O, sweet! we two no more shall part. 



6S 



THE FOREST IN WINTER 

Who haunts the Wintry forest hears 
The heart of Nature beat beneath 
Her robe of snow and icy gems. 

Think you the woods are but for days 
When perfumed winds stir countless leaves 
Whose low, sweet harmonies enthrall 
The listening ear; when murmuring brooks 
Hold converse with forget-me-nots 
That deck the mossy banks ; when on 
The path are checkered sun and shade 
Like little rippling waves of light? 



66 



THE FOREST IN WINTER 

Ah, no! There is no Summer sky 
So blue as that, against which stand 
The bare, brown trees with twigs enlaced, 
Where chirp and twitter Winter birds. 

On every side, from out the snow, 
Sway ghosts of golden rod and stalks 
With downy pods of milkweed capped. 



67 



THE FOREST IN WINTER 

The Erl King's tiny spears of frost 
But make the bracing air more rare, 
And on the ear attuned, there falls 
From Nature's workshop, faint far sounds, 
As nearer come the chariot wheels 
Of Spring, toward the Winter woods. 



68 



WANDERLUST 

A wind-swept cloud from the restless sea — 
A drifting cloud on the mountainside — 

Sang : " Why so tamely cling, ye trees, 

To these silent heights? On the ocean's tide 

Are life and paths to the ports afar 

O'er the jeweled deep, 'neath the outmost star." 

Then cursing its chains, an oak-tree grand 
With longing prayed for that restless sea, 

Till ax and stream and the builder's hand 
The oak, a white-winged ship, set free, 

In ecstasy, dreamlike, forth to fare 

O'er lucent depths to the Everywhere. 



69 



WANDERLUST 

Ah, the drifting cloud on the mountainside 
Had whispered naught of storm and wreck; 

But the oaken ship lies fathoms deep, 

With the seaweed green on her lonely deck ; 

And oh, for the leaves and the birds' sweet song 

And the voice of the forest the whole night 
long! 



70 



A JEST OF FATE 

(Ten days after the earthquake, flowers were 
still blooming in a window-box high on a ruined 
palace wall.) 

Like a flaming flow'r dropped on Messina's 
dark pall 
A geranium hangs in its deep crimson bloom 
On a casement's broad ledge in the wavering 
wall 
Of what once was a palace — but now is a 
tomb. 



71 



A JEST OF FATE 

Is it only a jest of mad Fate 'mid the gloom, 
Or a note of life's battle song, meant to recall 

Hope and courage once more to the City of 
Doom — 
That scarlet flow'r high on the tottering wall ? 



72 



A SKATING RONDEAU 

Two lovers they, on steel winged feet. 
O'erhead the stars, a glittering fleet, 
Through purple seas, untossed by gale 
Toward that silvery harbor sail 
Where fading eve and moonrise meet. 
The world seems theirs alone — So sweet 
That all life's vexing cares retreat 
As speed they through the frozen vale. 
Two lovers they. 



73 



A SKATING RONDEAU 

They long not for the Summer's heat, 
While Winter reigns with j oys replete — 
Nor Autumn's vanished hues bewail 
When ice and snow the earth enveil, 
And stars and skates in tune repeat: 
Two lovers, theyi 



74 



LIKE A PRESSED FLOWER 

How soon, within the Book of Time, 

Life's latest hour 
Will lay my memory — as we press 

Some curious flower. 
Then, on th* enfolding page, I would 

God's hand divine 
Might note: Though erring oft, this still 

Was child of mine. 



75 



THE SILENT MAN 

When the battleships saluted General Grant's 
tomb on their return from the Spanish war. 

The war-scarred battleships in garb of gray 
Steam swiftly up the stream in proud array, 
'Mid din of acclamation from the shore 
And cannons' roar. 

Abreast the lofty tomb on Claremont's height, 
These latest heroes, fresh from glorious fight, 
With thundering guns salute the warrior who 
Rests there time through. 



76 



THE SILENT MAN 

O, does the sword upon his breast stir not? 
Think you the sounds of war are all forgot? 
Leaps not his pulse with pride that he, too, won 
As these have done? 

Who knows ? " The Silent Man pi gives neither 
sign 

Nor word. The ships sail back in stately line; 

The low wind sweeps o'er Claremont's tomb- 
crowned hill, 

And all is still. 



77 



A LOW MOUND IN THE WILDERNESS 

I know a grave on Southern soil, 

A lonely little mound, 
Where three tall pines their sentry keep, 

And scarce a sound 

The silence breaks. Naught but the rush 

Of storms, the carolling bird, 
And soughing wind among the trees 

Is ever heard. 

No human hand has touched that " low 
Green tent " through fifty years 

Anear. The falling rain and dew 
The only tears 

78 



A LOW MOUND 

Have been that moistened it. But far 
North, where the cold waves foam, 

A mother mourns her drummer boy 
Who ne'er came home. 

His comrades laid him here — the flag 

Across his boyish breast, 
And " for his mother " on his brow 

A last kiss pressed. 

But think not while a nation decks 

The graves of hero dead, 
That where this brave boy sleeps, no flower 

Rests o'er his head; 



79 



A LOW MO U N D 

For sown by wandering winds, kept by 

God's hand, a poppy seed 
Took root and grew a thousand fold, 

Its every need 

By Him supplied. And when each year 
Flowers deck the patriot's tomb, 

That low mound in the wilderness 
Is all abloom. 

And ever o'er the drummer boy 

The tall pines sentry keep, 
And that day blooms a crimson pall 

The " flower of sleep." 



80 



A LOW MOUND 

And when at eve through bluest skies, 
White cloud ships seem to sail 

From star to star, and low the flowers 
Bend in the gale, 

The blood-red poppies, snowy clouds ; 

And sky of azure hue 
Spread o'er the drummer boy God's own 

Red, white and blue. 



81 



TO MARCH 

Dash on, Oh wild young charioteer! 

The rushing winds, thy fiery steeds, 
Wait but a call from thee to hear 

Ere each from heaven's far boundary speeds, 
With ice-shod hoof and streaming mane, 

Thy shout his lash, thy voice his rein. 

Dash on, mad youth from frozen lands 
That ne'er by summer are caressed! 

The leaping waves stretch high their hands, 
In vain endeavor to arrest 

Thy flight, to where, 'neath budding tree, 
Thy sweetheart April waits for thee. 



82 



A BLESSED SPOT 

In mother's room, 

O blessed spot! 
Where childhood's griefs were soon forgot. 
For dreariest hour of wintriest day- 
Held still some lingering light of May 

In mother's room. 

In mother's room! 

When hope betrayed, 
Or Fortune's smile shone undismayed, 
Less bitter seemed to grow the ill, 
And happiness glowed brighter still, 

In mother's room. 



83 



A BLESSED SPOT 

In mother's room! 

'Tis holy ground, 
The threshold of a low, green mound; 
For with crossed hands on faithful breast, 
Life's first, best friend lay there at rest 

In mother's room. 



84 



LULLABY 

Sleep, baby, sleep ! 
Waiting near, with outstretched hands, 
See the slumber Angel stands. 
Every bird has sought its nest; 
Lambs are in the fold at rest. 

Sleep, baby, sleep ! 
God and Mother vigil keep. 

Sleep, baby, sleep! 
Through the trees the night-winds wail; 
Past the stars the dream-ships sail, 
Clouds for canvas, dreams for freight. 
Hush, my sweet, the hour grows late. 

Sleep, baby, sleep! 
God and Mother vigil keep. 

85 



A VAIN WISH 

I know a lake, which nestles where 
Tall mountains rise nearby; 
And on its quiet bosom floats 
A pictured sky. 

At night, the shepherd moon leads forth 
On high his starry flock; 
And on the wavering water's depths 
Pale planets rock. 

I'd ask no other Paradise 
For heaven I'd never sigh, 
If in this peaceful vale, my home 
Might be for aye. 



86 



POT-POURRI 

Time steals my sweetness all away 
Cries fleeting youth in sad dismay, 

Regretful. 

Forgetful 
That charm fades not though beauty may 
And the rose of to-day still sweet shall be 
When Summer goes, as pot-pourri. 



87 



GOLDEN SILENCE 

As blooms an ivory lily on some turbid pool, 
Its perfumed heart by noisome ripples flut- 
tered, 
So o'er the soul depths where dark passions 
rule 
Blooms that restraint, which holds harsh 
words unuttered. 



88 



MAY 

Along the fields and waysides 

A dainty maiden trips; 
The grass springs green behind her 

And from her finger tips 
She scatters many a wild flower 

And many a tulip fine, 
And gilds the humble meadows 

Where dandelions shine. 

See! on the silent forest 

She doth a light kiss press — 

And slumbering forces waken 
Beneath that soft caress. 



89 



MAY 

She stoops to call the violets 
But near and far away 

A myriad cry: We're waiting 
To welcome you, sweet May ! 



90 



AFTERWARD 

I heedlessly opened the cage 

And suffered my bird to go free ; 
And, though I besought it with tears to re- 
turn, 

It nevermore came back to me. 
It nests in the wildwood, and heeds not my call, 

the bird once at liberty, who can enthrall? 

1 hastily opened my lips, 

And uttered a word of disdain 
That wounded a friend, and forever estranged 

A heart I would die to regain. 
But the bird once at liberty, who can enthrall? 
And the word that's once spoken, O who can 
recall ? 

91 



ROSEMARY 

One lonely twilight hour, when gray- 
Had grown the sky and sea, 

Along the sands a slender form 
Drew near and paused by me. 

Starlike above a violet robe 
Shone out her sweet, sad face, 

And soft she crooned to soothe the babe 
That lay in her embrace. 

I asked her name, and grieved because 
With tears her eyes were wet. 

" Men call me Memory," she sighed, 
" And this, my child, Regret." 
92 



IMPROVEMENTS ON THE HOME- 
STEAD 

In the busy, dusty city 

I dreamed of boyhood's days, 
And the old stone homestead far away 

Mid quiet country ways. 
Its shingled roof all moss-grown, 

Its walls so cool and gray, 
And the vine-clad stoop where the old folks sat 

To rest at close of day. 



93 



IMPROVEMENTS 

Then the dream became a longing, 

And, traveling far and fast, 
I came to the little village where 

My childhood's years were passed, 
And sought the quaint stone mansion, 

But O, what change was there! 
Bay-windows, balconies, and, at 

One end, a porte cochere. 

The walls were pumpkin yellow, 

The shingled roof bright red, 
And, at the side, a rounded tower 

Reared high its upstart head. 
No trace of home beloved! 

No signs of days gone by! 
Not e'en the long well-sweep that used 

To point toward the sky. 



94 



IMPROVEMENTS 

I felt as one who, bending 

To look in some old face 
He fondly loves, beholds it rouged — 

Bereft of each dear grace. 
So now, when of improvements 

Men talk, my heart is sore, 
And longs for the stoop where the old folks sat 

To rest when day was o'er. 



95 



AMBITION 

The hilltop be thy goal ! 'Tis not 
O'er steeples that we stumble — 

'Tis over loose stones in the path 
That plodding pilgrims tumble. 

Though by ambition angels fell, 

Without it, mortals ne'er excel. 



96 



A CHARM 

Every gentle deed you do 
One bright spirit brings to you — 
One more angel, watch to keep 
By your pillow while you sleep; 
Softer makes the wind's weird song 
Through the pine-trees all night long; 
Clearer makes the white stars gleam 

While you dream, 

While you dream. 

Every gentle word you say 
One dark spirit drives away; 
Makes the clover in the grass 
Whisper greeting as you pass; 

97 



A CHARM 

Swifter makes the cloud-ships fly 
Through the ocean of the sky; 
Daintier makes each frosty flake 

When you wake, 

When you wake. 



98 



TWIN GUESTS 

One Summer day a chubby boy 

With wings and blinded eyes, 

Came clamoring at my door — and I, 

To rid me of his cries, 

At last said: "Love you may come in/ 

When, with dismay at heart, 

I saw the rascal enter with 

Almost his counterpart, 

Except that while Love smiled, this one 

Did mournfully complain. 

" Where'er I go," the blind boy said, 
" Goes my twin brother, Pain." 



99 



TWIN GUESTS 

They quickly drove calm Friendship out 

And what with tears and smiles, 

I could do naught but comfort Pain 

And watch Love's pretty wiles. 

And though sometimes in weariness 

I wished them far away, 

Again so sweet the torments were, 

I plead with them to stay. 



IOO 



AN UNWRITTEN BOOK 

Each new day is a golden book, pearl wrought, 

Its hours are silvery pages pure as snow, 
Where will be writ each word and deed and 
thought 
That fill the flying moments as they go. 
So mayst thou live that that bright one, who, 
with 
His flaming pen records each action past, 
God's pitying Angel, need not weep for thee 
When " Finis " marks the fluttering page 
turned last. 



IOI 



IN THE FAR COUNTRY 

In that far country o'er Death's sea, 

I know that my heart often, 
For those I've left, will homesick be. 

Nor will heaven's raptures soften 
The longing for my life lived here: 
The morning's task — the evening cheer. 

Shall I not miss the dusky night, 

The wistful twilight hour, 
The clocktower's chimes, the sweet delight 

In each long tended flower? 
Oh! in all Paradise there's not 
A joy could make these be forgot. 

1 02 



THE LAND OF THE AFTERNOON 

I know a wondrous land of pearl 
And pink and golden gleam, 

Above whose battlements of cloud 
Broad crimson banners stream. 

Beyond the azure depths of noon, 

Far down the west it lies. 
Its gate, the setting sun, is cleft 

Through saffron-colored skies. 

Its seas are floods of amber light, 

Where fleecy shallops sail, 
And violet mists, its silvery domes, 

And palace walls enveil. 
103 



LAND OF THE AFTERNOON 

Athwart the dewy shadows, that 

Forever Eastward creep, 
The long-winged swallows, silently 

In mazy circles sweep. 

It is the realm of finished toil — 
To weary hands a boon — 

And twixt the day and twilight lies 
This Land of the Afternoon. 



104 



II 



THE MOTHER-HEART 

Hushed were the songs of the angels and pale 
On the dawn's field of gold was the guiding 
star's ray — 

Wearied, the shepherd Kings slept — and the 
Babe 
On the breast of the Virgin in soft slumber 
lay — 

And she whispered: Forget Sweet, thy heav- 
enly throne 

And O, for a little while, be just mine own. 



107 



THE MOTHER-HEART 

Cherubs thy playmates will be, but to me 

Thou wilt run for thy hurts to be kissed and 
made well; 
Legions of ministering angels shall be 

By thy side, but no care shall thy mother's 
excel. 
Then remember not now, Sweet, thy heavenly 

throne, 
But O, for a little while, be just mine own. 



108 



THE MOTHER-HEART 

These hands like pink rose leaves that press on 

my heart, 
Heavy burdens must carry ere victory be won. 
Though dear to the Lord of the whole world 

thou art — 
Ah ! there's no love like my love for thee. Little 

Son. 
Then forget Sweet, thy mission and heavenly 

throne, 
And O, for a little while, be just mine own. 



109 



THE LILY OF ISRAEL 

Effulgence, never seen before, 

Fills sky and sea and slumbering earth 

And to the farthest angel tells 

The message of the Saviour's birth. 

The dazzling worlds in heaven's dome 
Grow pale before that wondrous light, 

For planet never shone as shines 
The Star of Bethlehem to-night. 

And 'neath that star a slender girl 

With soft brown eyes, hears angels sing 
And whispers to her new-born son: 
"Light of the World! My babe, my 
King!" 

no 



BLOWN BY THE BREATH OF GOG 

Call you this chance? A tiny seed 
Is blown by wandering winds that speed 
O'er land and sea. On ocean's breast 
'Tis swept and whirled; then flung to rest 

Upon a lonely isle, 'mid reed 
And sedge, and many a straggling weed. 
Lo! soon the isle a flowery mead 
Becomes, with brilliant blossoms drest. 

Call you this chance? 



Ill 



THE BREATH OF GOD 

Oft-times a word or kindly deed 
Bestowed upon some soul in need — 
Some soul where Love is never guest — 
Transforms the heart by hate opprest, 
'Till flowers the noisome weeds succeed. 
Call you this chance? 



112 



WITHIN THE STONE 

A marble fragment lay for years 

By roadside ^ust defiled; 
The low clouds dropped on it their tears, 

The sunshine on it smiled; 
And but a worthless stone it seemed, 
Wherein no trace of beauty gleamed. 

But one who wrought with wondrous art - 

And not with art alone, 
For love divine dwelt in his heart — 

Took home the piece of stone, 
And broke the rough, stained part away, 
And lo ! a face within it lay. 



113 



WITHIN THE STONE 

A thorn-crowned face, so sad that, when 

One looked on it, he wept; 
So loving that through hearts of men 

A new devotion crept; 
And many a wandering soul, that sweet 
Face guided to the Master's feet. 



114 



UNANSWERED PRAYER 

Against the frozen face 

Of earth, I lay my own 
And softly pleading, make 
My longing known. 

Sweet Mother Earth give me, 

I beg, one little spray 
Of perfumed flower to cheer 
This wintry day. 

She answers not, nor opes 

Her eyes. But well I know 
That Nature's heart still beats 
Beneath the snow. 

115 



UNANSWERED PRAYER 

Then, of the stream I ask, 

One water-lily bud, 
To deck the dreary hour. 
The ice-bound flood 

Makes no reply, nor stirs 

His crystal sheet, but know 
I well, that still, deep down, 
His life-tides flow. 

My spirit oft, on wings 

Of some impatient prayer, 
Soars up to Heaven's gate 
And clamors there. 



116 



UNANSWERED PRAYER 

And though no opening door 

Lets me his countenance see, 
I know my Father's love 
Yet burns for me. 



117 



THE FLOWER OF DUTY 

In silence, and with progress all unseen, 
Throughout the cycle of a hundred years, 

The century plant attains its daily growth, 
Until at last the gorgeous bloom appears. 

So, when some glorious deed for duty done, 
The world with admiration stirs, we know 

That through a life of little tasks fulfilled 
Was formed the bud whose bursting thrilled 
us so. 



118 



ONLY BELIEVE 

Poor trembling heart, when heaven seems 
Far off and hopes fade like the gleams 
That shine from half forgotten dreams, 
Believe — only believe ! 

When gathering tempests meet thy sight 
And not one little ray of light 
Illumes the dark and dreaded night, 
Believe — only believe ! 

When fierce temptations o'er thy soul 
Like surging, sweeping torrents roll 
And faith drifts almost past control, 
Believe — only believe ! 
119 



ONLY BELIEVE 

If some great cross before thine eyes 
Hides from thy sight the glittering prize, 
The crown that waits beyond the skies, 
Believe — only believe ! 

If thou would'st reach those regions blest, 
Where far beyond the golden west, 
Earth's weary pilgrims find sweet rest, 
Believe — only believe ! 

Poor guilty heart, whate'er thy sin, 
Christ's blood can make thee pure within, 
Thou canst his loving pardon win. 
Believe — only believe ! 



120 



A BLOSSOM FOR GOOD FRIDAY 

When on the cross our dear Lord hung, 
The tears that anguish from him wrung 
Bedewed the ground. When lo! upsprung 

From each a little flower, whose hue, 
Like Syria's sunny skies, was blue. 
Outspreading from the cross they grew, 

And whispered to the little knot 
Of women weeping round the spot; 
" The Master says, ' Forget me not. ' " 



121 



A TWILIGHT VISION 

Gray twilight shadows lay about 
The cheerless little cell, 
Where sat an aged monk whose thoughts 
Held him 'neath gloomy spell. 
He mused in deep humility 
Upon a long life's span 
All spent within the cloister walls, 
And thus his reverie ran: 
" My days have passed like counted beads 
Upon a rosary strung 
With prayer and fast, with matins, mass, 
And peaceful vespers sung. 
And in those hours of work, when some 
Have painted pictures rare, 
122 



A TWILIGHT VISION 

And some wrote books of blessed saints, 

Who spent their lives in prayer, 

I have done naught but try each day, 

'Mid childish sport and strife, 

To teach the village boys. Dear Lord, 

Forgive my useless life ! " 

Then glorious grew the dusky cell 

With light, but not of sun, 

Nor moon, nor stars, but shining from 

The radiant form of One 

With tender face and pierced hands, 

Who softly said: 

" Not so, 
My faithful servant, thou hast done 
As much as they; for, lo! 
The beauty of their painted work 
With fleeting time departs, 
But thou hast pictured lasting scenes 

123 



A TWILIGHT VISION 

On little children's hearts. 

And while the pens of others wrote 

With ink that fades away, 

The words thou hast imprinted on 

My children's minds will stay 

Till they and thou and I shall meet 

In Paradise the Fair." 

Then paled the light, — the vision fled, 

And on his knees in prayer, 

Ecstatic from the Saviour's words, 

The aged brother fell. 

And, like a soothing mother, Night 

Came to the little cell. 



124 



TWO CALLS 

Saul, journeying to Damascus, heard 

A voice speak from on high, 

And saw a blinding cross of flame 

Gleam in the dazzling sky. 

But, soul ! wait not for such a call, 

Nor think thou art forgot 

Because to thee the Saviour's voice 

In trumpet tones comes not. 

While morning mists hung low above 
The waves of Galilee, 
And chilly winds swept from the hills 
Across the white capped sea, 
Two weary fisher brothers toiled 
125 



TWO CALLS 

Their broken nets to mend, 

When softly spake the Master's voice, 

As friend speaks unto friend: 

" Come follow me ! " and Oh ! so sweet 

The wandering Savior's call, 

They straightway left their ship and home 

For Him forsaking all. 

So now to some Christ gently calls 

Sometimes through look or word 

Of those we love, did we but list, 

His whisper could be heard. 

His voice is in the slow winged clouds 

The never silent sea 

O Soul! the Master even now 

Is softly calling thee. 



126 



WHEN DAYLIGHT DAWNS 

Now daylight dawns, and praises spring 
From every song bird's throat ! 

While, veil-like, over mountain tops 
The mists of morning float. 

Dear God, all through the night thine eye 
Hath watched the sick and sad; 

In pity smile on them, and make 
Thy suffering children glad. 

Keep thou the pure still pure; and should 
Some wayward wanderer stray 

In dangerous paths, to save him, Lord, 
Stretch forth thy hand to-day. 



127 



WHEN DAYLIGHT DAWNS 

Then, when this now triumphant sun 
Sinks in the golden west, — 

When stars shine out, and every bird 
Flies to its sheltered nest, 

Draw nearer to us, God of Love, 
Bend down thy pitying face ; , 

And in thine everlasting arms 
Fold us in close embrace. 



128 



HE CARETH FOR ALL 

Far out to sea a little bird, 

In wild confusion, flew. 
The red sun set, star after star 

Came into view, 
And still the fluttering wings in vain 
Essayed to win the nest again. 

The distant worlds, through boundless space 
Unswerving kept their way; 

The whirling earth sped on without 
Change or delay; 

Old spheres burned out; new ones, that night, 

Flashed into brilliancy of light. 



129 



HE CARETH FOR ALL 

One eye supreme the rhythmic march 
Of planets thus controlled, 

One hand there was, whose hollow palm 
Could all enfold, 

And yet, from where each cry is heard, 

That eye beheld the fainting bird; 

And, guided by that mighty hand. 

Across the billows dark 
It flew, and sank to rest upon 

A passing bark. 
Think'st thou, O, storm-tossed soul! that He 
Doth not thy weary fluttering see ? 



130 



HANS AND THE GOLDEN APPLE 

A LEGEND 

The priest's own eyes were tearful, 
The women softly wept, 
For, just across the mountain 
An avalanche had swept, 
And out of all the family 
Of Gustave, there was left 
But Lise, the year old baby, 
Of home and friends bereft. 

The old priest asked an offering 
From each, however small, 
And told them, that the dear Lord, 
Who saw and loved them all, 
131 



THE GOLDEN APPLE 

Well knew they had but little 
To spare the orphan waif. 
But what they lent in this way 
To God, would come back safe. 

Now Hans, " the ever hungry/' 
Had set out just at dawn 
To seek the pastor's heifer, 
Which far astray had gone. 
And when back home he brought her, 
The priest, for well earned treat, 
Gave him a rosy apple, 
Too nice to quickly eat. 

So safe within his pocket 
The apple went to mass, 
And, wearied out with walking, 
Hans fell asleep, Alas ! 

132 



THE GOLDEN APPLE 

And now, behold! unto him 
Appeared the Holy Child, 
In brightly shining garments, 
And said in accents mild: 

" Dear little Hans, for My sake, 

Give Lise thine apple red." 

And as Hans, wondering, 'wakened, 

The lovely vision fled. 

So when the carved alms basin 

He passed, the old priest stopped 

Surprised to see Hans' apple 

Among the kreutzers dropped. 

But when upon the altar 
He placed it, strange to say, 
Lo! 'Mid the copper kreutzers, 
A golden apple lay. 

133 



THE GOLDEN APPLE 

And in the pastor's garden 
The tree, which heretofore 
Had borne the rosy apples, 
Brought forth that kind no more- 

But shining yellow pippins 
(That men might not forget 
Hans and the golden apple) 
It bore and bears them yet. 



134 



ONE GIFT I ASK 

Through weary days and sleepless nights 

I fast and pray; 
And of my listening Lord I ask, 

The same alway — 
That He will to His child impart 

Pureness of heart. 

The pure in heart God's face shall see. 

And does not this 
Include the whole ecstatic scale 

Of promised bliss? 
Can souls which His dear presence gain 

More joy attain? 



135 



ONE GIFT I ASK 

I need not plead with Him to give 

Me every grace 
That makes the spirit beautiful; 

For, if God's face 
I am to see, He will bestow 

All else, I know. 

And so, through days of prayer and fast, 

I only try 
To win that purity of heart 

Which, by and by, 
The wondrous boon will gain for me, 

God's face to see. 



136 



PRISONERS OF HOPE 

Within a narrow cell 

A captive lies. 
Beyond his prison bars 

The summer skies 
Are smiling in the earth's 

Uplifted face — 
And, far away, the hills 

And clouds embrace. 

And while of boundless plains, 

Unfettered streams 
And shady forest depths 

He sadly dreams, 

137 



PRISONERS OF HOPE 

His listening ear is bent — 

Some foot may be 
Approaching, even now 

To set him free. 

So in its narrow cell 

The spirit lies, 
And dreams of all the joys 

Of paradise, 
And listens for the whirr 

Of rushing wings, 
As God's swift messenger 

Deliverance brings. 



138 



BISHOP FENELON'S PRAYER 

" O Lord ! take thou my heart, 

I cannot give it thee; 

'Tis bound so fast by earthly ties 

I cannot wrest it free. 

So close love's clinging tendrils twine 

How can it be entirely thine? 

" And when thou takest it, 

Keep it O Lord! for I 

Can never keep it for thee while 

Earth's tempting voices cry: 

' Come back to us, dear heart/ — But Oh ! 

My Father, do not let it go. 

139 



BISHOP'S FENELON'S PRAYER 

" And save me, Lord, in spite 
Of my own self. For when 
Sometimes I long for better things, 
The wish takes flight again. 
So, pitying Lord, I only pray, 
Cast not so poor a heart away." 



140 



THE FLOWER OF THE RESURRECTION 

There was a Blessed Garden 
In far off Palestine, 
Where grew more beauteous blossoms 
Than e'er were elsewhere seen. 
About its rock tomb portals, 
Where Mary went to weep, 
Swayed many a snowy poppy, 
The mystic flower of sleep — 
And blue forget-me-nots for 
Remembrance seemed to pray 
In azure clusters, close where 
The silent Savior lay. 
Then when that queen of mornings 
141 



RESURRECTION 

Her silvery veil unrolled, 

The first fair Easter lily 

Burst forth all white and gold 

To hail the Resurrection, 

The day of joy profound, 

Which made that Blessed Garden 

Earth's holiest spot of ground. 



142 



UNTIL EVENING 

What though around me all is dark, 
And I am blindly treading 

An unknown path, on which fall tears 
I cannot keep from shedding? 

I know 'twill sometime all be right — 

At eventide there shall be light." 

I cannot tell why all day long 
The darkness must enfold me; 

But well I know who walks beside, 
With hand outstretched to hold me — 

And faith must be to me as sight 

Till evening, when there shall be light. 

H3 



UNTIL EVENING 

Sometimes I think God does not care — 

I think he is not heeding 
Because He sends no flash of joy 

In answer to my pleading — 
Then starlike gleams that promise bright: 
At eventide there shall be light." 

And so I lay my hand in His^ 
And ask Him just to guide me. 

I will not mind aught else if I 
But hear his voice beside me. 

And all the shadows shall take flight 

When evening comes and there is light. 



144 



OCT 4 1909 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

HUWIIIIIL 

015 897 610 9 



